Uncharted Territories
by asianslaw
Summary: Historical AU set during the latter years of the Age of Exploration. An aspiring politician, Arthur Kirkland ventures to the New World to establish his own colony and gain the Royal Court's favor. When introduced to a native named Achachak, he soon realizes he wants more than just a position in Parliament. Warning: Sexual themes and character death.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE - ARTHUR

"Mr. Kirkland, surely you see how absurd that sounds? You've never once left the country, let alone sailed to an entirely new continent. You can't honestly expect us to believe you capable of establishing a successful colony." The nobleman said, his old-grey brows a loft.

"You've not even settled down with a wife yet, Mr. Kirkland!' Another chimed in, 'How do you intend to settle a town?"

Several members of the gathering snorted at this last comment.

Arthur Kirkland, however, was not deterred. He felt in his very core that he had the makings of a fine explorer. He stood from his plush chair and planted his hands firmly upon the table before him.

"Sir, I insist,' He began, staring boldly into the eyes of one of the King's minister who was present amongst the other members of Parliament. 'Grant me a ship and I'll establish the finest colony under England's great name."

"Agh- Arthur, please. Why would you even want to sail to Virginia? There's already settlements along that coastline." The first nobleman spoke again, his face and tone hinting at his dying patience.

"Why don't we just send you to India, hmm? Let you buy up some spices and tea and get that traveling-bug out of your system. What say you?" Another elder offered.

"No, no, no. I've no desire for tea or spices- send me to the New World!" Arthur pressed.

The King's minister waved a hand to silence the conglomerate.

"I'll press the request with His Highness this evening, Mr. Kirkland. I shall see about your ship. I don't want to listen to the lot of you bicker anymore.' He stood and prepared to make his leave, 'Let the boy go to Virginia, he'll be damned lucky if he even survives the journey.' He paused once more and shot a stare in Arthur's direction. '-And then, you'll have to find a way to feed yourself and your men. Oh, and there's also the savages you need be wary of."

Once the minister had exited, the other members of Parliament began to leave as well. Within mere minutes the hall was empty save for Arthur, who was not only recovering from shock but from the many stabs at his pride. To be fair, he was young. With only twenty-seven years of life under his belt, Arthur was seen as a child to the other congressmen and explorers. -And there was some truth to their arguments. Not only was he nearly thirty and unmarried, but Arthur had never once been outside the country.

Still, there was a burning passion within his gut to make a name for himself. His plan was to establish a successful colony on the northern coast of Virginia. Arthur would see it grow into an industrialized city like London. He had dreams of a fine harbor, where the exporting and importing of goods and materials never ended. Visions of cobblestone roads lined with businesses and housing filled his imagination. -And he, Arthur Kirkland, would govern this fine city and win over the Royal Court's favor. All he wanted was an esteemed reputation amongst the explorers and noblemen, to be known as the youngest and most ambitious explorer of his time. Of course, working his way up the social ladder was a pleasant bonus. He often dreamed of becoming an advisor to the King.

Arthur paced in his candle-lit study, a hand cupped to his chin thoughtfully. His thick brows were knit closely together and his eyes steady on the floor beneath him. Every once in a while he would stop and stare at a map of Virginia and it's coastline, muttering incoherent things under his breath. His finger graced the worn parchment and traced a portion of the land that was highlighted in red ink.

"Kirklands Town?" He spoke, testing the name.

"Gyugh!' He then exclaimed and shook his head furiously. 'Rubbish."

He groaned and ran his hands through his disheveled blonde hair and let his body fall into the chair behind him. His arms dropped over the sides of the chair and Arthur sunk further into the seat, letting free a defeated sigh.

As a child and through his years at University, he'd studied the notes of other explorers - Spanish, French, and English explorers. Everything had been planned perfectly. He knew who should accompany him on his journey, he knew exactly where he wanted his settlement. His studies told him exactly what type of lumber to expect and how to use that lumber to build cabins and other structures. Arthur even planned what sort of wildlife he might expect while in Virginia. He even thought of a plan to deal with the savages that he may encounter. It was all there. Everything except the name.

"Crowns?' He stated, 'Crowns, Virginia?" He tries again tentatively.

"Hello, welcome to Crowns, Virginia!" The words fell from his tongue pleasantly.

In light of mimicking a conversation, "Where are you from?" "Oh, me? Why, I'm from Crowns, Virginia."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO - ACHACHAK

Plumes of smoke rose high above the tree tops, challenging the mountains and stars for dominance of the sky. The greyscale billows served as a guide home as it could be seen from miles away. His newly-bestowed name burned at the back of his mind, spurring his feet to move faster and faster until he was sprinting home.

Within moments, his home was in plain view. People of all genders and ages danced around the huge fire in the center of their town. Voices chanted and sang to the stars and the spirits around them, praising the names their sons and daughters brought back with them. His long, dark hair whipped about behind him, his arms pumped faster and faster, and his feet never seemed to touch the ground.

He entered the village hooting and grinning, throwing his arms around an elder woman who came to paint his cheeks and chest for the ceremony.

"Ah- calm yourself, Son- oh-oh-haah!' She began, her voice crackling like aged bark. 'Settle down now and let me mark you- there." She breathed.

Another voice rang above the crowd and stole the ecstatic man's attention, "My son! My son, come here."

The youth turned his proud chin and approached his father. The two shared a strong and loving embrace, patting each other's backsides and roaring with laughter.

"Father, I have my name." The young man said just as he moved to his father's side.

"My people! Did you hear? My son has come home with a name.' The Chief looked to his son. 'Go on, tell us."

The youth turned his bronze gaze upon the crowd. "The spirits have named me Achachak."

The Chief smacked his son's shoulders and lifted his staff high above his head.

"Achachak! Achachak, the Chief's son!" He repeated.

The gathered people cheered again, and returned to their dancing and chanting and praising. The steady beating of drums moved their legs and their hearts, coaxing everyone that could hear to dance and sing along.

Achachak turned to his father with a grin still plastered to his face. "I will join them now, father. I've looked forward to this night for nineteen summers."

His father laughed and gestured to the fire, "Go, dance with your people."

Achachak linked arms with another young woman who had also returned that evening with an adult's name. The two cackled and stomped their feet to the drum's rhythm and were quickly absorbed into the festivities.

The chanting and feasting did not end for many more hours, when every child who'd been sent forth returned with an adult name. In fact, the ceremony didn't end until the light of day stained the skies and the people could dance no more. Achachak finally stumbled into his family's home just before midday. Having been without his bed for that whole evening and seven days previous to it, sleep claimed him for several hours.

The following day, when the sun was already high in the sky, Achachak rose from his slumber. Revived and rejuvenated, he leapt from his bed and slipped into his footed deer-skin trousers. He ran a toothed comb through his chaotic hair, but any attempts to tame it were in vein.

When he finally left his home, a strong breeze greeted him as did the sun's warm touch. The coals from the ceremony were still hot, and a slim tendril of smoke rose from them.

Achachak's father appeared from beside him and squeezed his shoulders.

"I think I'll visit the river today." Achachak said, already anxious to leave the village and do something.

"It would be a fine day for that, son. But you and I need to speak; you're an adult now. Soon you will be Chief of this village and-...' He stopped himself, peering to his son who looked anything but excited. 'Ah- but, we can discuss those matters tonight. You may leave."

Achachak thanked his father and was just about to make a dash for the river when a voice called to him.

"Achachak! Hey, Achachak! Wait!"

The Chief's son whirled around and saw the girl-now-woman from the ceremony, whom he'd danced with. Her name was Wapun and they'd known each other since childhood. The two were close friends, and rumor had it that they were to be married soon.

"Wapun, you're up? I figured you'd be lazy and sleep for a week after the ceremony." He teased.

She elbowed his side playfully once she caught up. "I thought that's what /you/ would do. I guess we're both full of surprises. Where are you off to?"

"The river. With the wind's strength, I bet I can race faster than the water itself."

"Let me come with you, then! I want to be there when you beat the water at it's own game." Wapun replied, sarcasm thick in her voice.

Achachak rolled his eyes, "Yeah-yeah. Come along if you want, but leave your doubt here. Your negativity will weigh down the canoe."

The two wandered off together, disappearing into the thickness of the woods and leaving the village behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE - CROWNS

Months had passed. Several, slow, agonizing months at sea. Arthur was ill, physically, spiritually and mentally ill. The slow rocking of the ship, the creaking of wood, the shouting of men - all these sounds made his stomach churn like the ocean itself. Sitting in his quarters, Arthur rubbed his forehead with his sweaty palms and tried desperately not to chunder.

Admittedly, he underestimated the hardships of sailing to the New World. Still, the trip seemed abnormally difficult. First, the entirety of his crew fell ill. Then a storm pushed them several miles off course. Now, they were stuck sailing for weeks under a cloudless-sky and a sun that beat upon their backs without mercy. It was hot.

-And no one had any real idea as to when they'd land. The assigned navigator predicted their safe arrival days ago, but as far as Arthur knew, there was no land in sight. Arthur tugged at his damp shirt and slumped over a bucket.

Just as he was about to puke, a voice called out, "Approaching the coast, sir!"

Another voice responded, "Praise God, finally! Get those damned anchors ready- and let down those sails, boys! This wind'll carry us in."

Arthur shot from his chair and bolted out of his cabin. The sea air hit him hard, filling his lungs with salt for the first time in weeks. Arthur coughed and spat and silently cursed himself for staying locked-up for so long.

With a fist balled up against his chest, he approached the ship's railing. His green eyes stared out, almost in disbelief. There. Right in front of him, was land. He could see the bleached sands glistening, the white caps of the waves rising and falling. He could see the massive green trees sprouting from the earth and rising towards the heavens. -And further behind him he saw the tops of mountains, standing tall and mighty over everything. Arthur gasped for air. No amount of reading or studying prepared him for the beauty of it all.

For a little over an hour, Arthur just stood there and stared at the ever-approaching land. The gusting winds whipped at his shirt and the hot sun burned his pale skin. But no matter what, he stood in a stupor. Until a firm hand shook his shoulder.

"Oi, Mr. Kirkland, sir? Y'er bein' called for, sir." The burly man said, his tone gruff and dry.

"Wha- oh! Oh, yes, right- ah, thank you. Been in a bit of a daze." Arthur said, and shuffled his feet towards the opposite side of the ship.

Several men waited for him there, ready to hoist him and the first few crew members into the lifeboat. When the lot of them were loaded, they were slowly lowered into the ocean. From there, two men took over with oars and began paddling them towards the shore.

When Arthur's shoes touched the sand, he nearly dropped onto his knees. He wanted to take handfuls of the sand and kiss it, to let the soft waves roll over his body. He didn't, but he wanted to so badly that it made his legs shake. Instead, he placed his hands upon his hips and jutted his chest out. He breathed in the air and let it out slowly. When his moment was done and he was finished savoring the air, he noticed the men were all waiting for him to say something.

He cleared his throat and tried to seem in command, "We-well... don't just stand there gawking, go get the others! We'll need to set up camp and get to chopping these trees immediately, won't we?"

The men mumbled amongst themselves and returned to the ship where they'd begin unloading all the sailors and volunteers as well as their belongings and other such things.

Arthur was left by himself. Just him and the wild land before him. His land. Crowns, Virginia.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR - ANSWERS

"So... Achachak. Has your father spoken with you yet?" Wapun asked.

"Not yet, although he did approach me just before we left. He wants us to speak tonight." He answered, cracking open a single eye to stare at her. "Why?" He added.

She turned her gaze away from him and drew her knees into her chest. "You're a man now, and one day you will be Chief. When will you find a wife?"

"I'm in no rush to find a wife. True, I will be Chief... but not for many more summers. My father isn't /that/ old." Achachak answered.

"I see." She muttered.

Silence stretched between them for several minutes before Wapun spoke up again.

"What about me, Achachak?"

"What about you?" He questioned, not trying to be rude.

"Oh, come on! The whole village is talking about it... Why don't you and I marry?" She questioned, seemingly exasperated at his obliviousness.

"Wapun-... We've been friends for so long- our whole lives! And you know I keep you close to my heart, but-..." He trailed off.

"But you won't marry me?" She huffed.

"Please don't act like that Wapun. It's just that I don't want to be married yet, there's still so much time!" He offered in defense of himself.

Wapun groaned and stood up suddenly, "You're a grown man now, Achachak! You need to find a wife and I won't wait another year for you!" She spat, her fists in tight balls.

Before Achachak could even gather himself to think of a rebuttal, she was storming through the woods to return home. He sat up and rubbed his head slowly, as if his mind was aching. Several minutes passed like this, with Achachak sitting dumbfounded in the grass on the bank of the river. His mind swam with questions and emotions. Was the entire village really talking about their seemingly inevitable marriage? -And why did she have to be like that?

He kicked out his foot and jammed it against the canoe's side angrily. "Agh!" He grunted, but was soon doubled over and rubbing his injured toes. "-Ow... tsst. Then don't wait for me, Wapun...' He mumbled, 'I will marry when I am ready to be a husband."

"But is that the right thing to do?" Achachak asked himself.

Finally, he pushed himself up from the grass, straightened his back and turned his eyes up to the cloudless sky. He raised his arms slowly above his head with his palms flat, absorbing the sun like a blooming flower. Achachak let his eyes fall closed slowly and slackened his jaw.

"Give me guidance..." He whispered to the skies.

The wind stirred and lashed around him, encircling his form like a vortex. Leaves were sucked into it and blurred past him. The vortex grew and spun, faster and stronger. It was mighty, it was terrifying, and within a mere moment, it was over. The breeze settled to just that, a breeze. The leaves lazily fell to the earth and everything went about as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

Achachak's lips pulled into a grin, "Ah-whoo!" He called out towards the spirits joyously and pumped his arms above his head. Then he jumped into his canoe, and pushed off the river's bank with all his might.

He would follow the river until it opened into the ocean. That's where he would find his answers.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 - FOREIGNERS

Achachak's canoe snaked down the river at dangerous speeds. Despite the river's strong current, Achachak stabbed the water with his oar and pushed his watercraft faster. Careening the thing around bends became more and more of a challenge; he had to shove his oar into the water, lean far over the canoe's side and pull the craft around himself lest he spill over.

No matter the threat, though, he pressed on. The beating of his heart resonated within his chest - a loud, steady drumming that he was sure could be heard from anywhere. Excitement tugged at his gut so strongly it threatened to make him ill.

When the river began to widen, leading into the delta, the current slowed and Achachak let himself slow down with it. He put his oar across his lap and let himself be carried out towards the ocean. He hadn't even cleared the wood line when he heard voices. Loud, and incomprehensible. Cautiously, he began steering his canoe to the bank of the delta to sneak a peak.

Nearly on all fours, he crept through the trees in absolute silence. He'd crawled some distance away from the river when his eyes found a large ship just off the shore. Achachak had never seen one himself, but he knew what they were - and what they carried. His brothers from the South had some experience with these pale-skinned foreigners that traveled on those seafaring crafts.

A voice, alien and intimidatingly close grabbed his attention. Achachak lowered his body into the grass and leaves in hopes of staying hidden. A white man passed some feet in front of him. He was clearly calling out to one of his brothers, but what he was saying? Achachak couldn't know. He stayed hidden in the brush until the footsteps could no longer be heard and he was sure the area was clear.

When he did finally move, Achachak made sure to creep. As he got closer, he could see just how many men had arrived. He counted, and figured there had to be about 50 or-so men. They were all strange to him; some were tall and lanky, while others were more plump and stocky. All of these men had skin so pale it was nearly painful to look at. Some had dark hair like Achachak's kin, but others had hair the shade of fire, and some the shade of corn.

He crept a bit closer. There were crates upon crates stacked on the shore, but only a few had been opened. Inside them were tools, and while he had seen some of them before, the majority of the tools were mysteries. But however much Achachak did not know, he knew one thing to be true - the foreigners intended to stay.

While the idea of having these white-skinned neighbors frightened him at first- due in part to the rumors of their terrifying weapons and warriors - he soon became more and more excited for it. He'd seen some of the great inventions they had brought and traded with his brothers in the South and to the West.

Achachak would need to let his father know immediately. The sooner they became partners in trade, the sooner he found his answers.

"_The white men must hold the key to my destiny,' _He thought, _'why else would the Spirits send me here?"_

"Father!" Achachak exclaimed as he entered the village, arms waving above his head like mad. "Father, hurry!"

His father appeared from their family home with a puzzled expression. "Achachak, there you are. Come inside, son, we have many things to discuss."

"Yes, father, we do." He responded.

His father's stern hand was upon his back, ushering him into the home. He sat down and joined the circle of adults that were already there; his father, his mother, Wapun and her family as well as the village's mystic and strongest warrior.

"Father, I've just gone to the river's end and -' He was silence by his father, whom held up a hand to him.

"Achachak, not now. Let's be serious for a moment, then you may tell me about the river. As I'm sure you know, Wapun's father and I have been discussing your marriage to her for some time. Since you were both young, we have promised you to the other-'

"-Father, I know, but-.'

"Silence, Achachak. Let me finish.' The Chief cleared his throat and began again, 'But Wapun comes to me today and tells me she wants to be married to Hassun instead." He suggests towards the warrior caddy-corner to Achachak. "Why does she tell me this?"

"She tells you this because I am not looking to marry, and she does not want to wait,' He answers in a rushed breath, 'Now, father, listen- I was at the river and-' His father lifts his hand again to silence him, but Achachak ignores it. '-There is a ship on our shores, and maybe 50 pale men are unloading crates and building tents and-'

"The white-man has come to our homeland?" He father asked, looking more concerned than Achachak had anticipated.

"Yes, father. The spirits told me to follow the river; they lead me to them."

"Did they see you, son?" He inquired.

"No, I was sure to stay hidden. Let us make trade with them, father. They can teach us many things, and I'm sure we can teach them something in return."

For a moment, the Chief was silent. His lips were drawn thin and his brows were furrowed. "I fear they may not want to trade, but we will meet with them anyways. Perhaps they will extend a friendly hand towards our people."

The Chief then looked to the other members of his tribe, "Please, excuse us. My son and I have some things to discuss, but this subject will not be forgotten."

Within moments the home was cleared.

"My son, I have told you many times that one day you will be Chief. Well, as Chief you will need to know how to talk and communicate with these white men. I was hoping they would stop coming over, but I see that is simply not the case. Tomorrow, you will come with me to meet these foreigners. But there is much that you do not know about their kind."

Achachak leaned forward and listened with intent to his father's wisdom. When night settled upon the village, Achachak's father had shared with him everything he knew about these strange men. He had absorbed every inspiring and intimidating detail that his father shared, and also made note to heed his father's command. He was not to meet with these white men alone, and to never make a trade with out his father's permission.

Achachak stripped himself of his garments and settled into his bed, but sleep did not steal him away as it normally would. There was too much excitement and anticipation for the coming day.


End file.
